


The Maze Rimmer

by unhinged (anti60ne)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: A tiny hint of dirty talk?, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming, Smut, a hint of S&M?, jizzing on the wall, lack of lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anti60ne/pseuds/unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas finds out about the Maze Rimmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maze Rimmer

**Author's Note:**

> i can't even write smut. this is sarah's fault.
> 
> unedited, unbeta'd, bad!porn, brain fart, etc

The day Thomas experiences the legendary Maze Rimmer is just like any other day in the life of a Runner. The sky is sunny and cloudless as always, the bland canvas that's starting to become a bore. Thomas grabs his backpack and readies for his Section 8 run when Minho grips him by the shoulder, startling him.

"You're with me today, Thomas."

Minho has never addressed him by his name before so Thomas knows something's up, but he knows better than to open his mouth and ask. He doesn't want to get socked in the jaw again--Minho's arms feel deadlier than they look, Thomas's experienced that first hand. So he follows the Keeper quietly as they break into a jog through the West Door.  
  
As they run down the corridors, Thomas recalls something that Chuck told him the night before at dinner. A Glade legend called the Maze Rimmer. Chuck had been telling him in a hushed voice, as if this figure was more abominable than the Grievers. But Thomas didn't get to hear the rest of the story because Newt suddenly coughed loudly and shot Chuck a death glare. Chuck refused to open his mouth and divulge even after Newt finished eating and left the table.

"Have you heard of the Maze Rimmer?" Thomas blurts out when they were near a turn. Minho falters and nearly misses the bend and runs straight into the wall. He lets out a series of hacking cough before resuming pace, face suddenly more flushed than before.

"W-what did you say?!"

"The Maze Rimmer. He's some sort of a legend around here or something?"  
  
Minho doesn't answer but picks up his speed, like he's trying to get ahead and away from Thomas and his idiotic queries.  
  
"Hey! Tell me!"  
  
Thomas strains his leg muscle and pushes forth until he falls in step with Minho. He glances over and finds the Keeper's lips are pursed in a straight line, ragged breath huffed through his flaring nostrils. This in addition to the deeply furrowed brows spells murder. Thomas bites down on his lower lip.  
  
"Are you mad at me?"

Minho stops dead in his track, whipping his head to the side as he stares at Thomas blankly.

"You really are the stupidest shuckface I have ever met," Minho mutters as his eyes squeeze shut, hands set on his hips. Thomas watches him with half dread and half trepidation.

"I... I'm sorry... I didn't know--"

His words die on the tip of his tongue when Minho suddenly pushes him up against the wall. With the Keeper's palms pressed into his clavicles, Thomas can almost feel the blood coursing through Minho's veins, the ivy mushed into the back of his shirt. He gasps when Minho shoves his face up close, eyes narrowed and pupils blown. Like a predator looking down at its prey, waiting for the right moment to sink in its teeth. And yet Thomas is unable to look away, as if mesmerized.

"You really want to know who the Maze Rimmer is?" 

The question comes in a near whisper, barely ghosting across Thomas's lips. A forbidden flush finds its way up his neck and he struggles to find his voice. He croaks out a broken  _yes_  and Minho's mouth is on his, hot and scalding like liquid fire. Somehow Thomas knew-- _felt_ \--this was going to happen, but he doesn't fight. It feels too good to be wrong. So he chases Minho's tongue, battles for dominance like the headstrong Runner that he is but in the end, he always relents. He yields to Minho's touch as the Keeper roams callous hands under his shirt and over his stomach, up to his chest and eventually rubs the nubs until they become rock hard. Thomas keens to those strong fingers as they push past the band of his pants and wrap around his dick and he's almost embarrassed at how hard and leaking he is already. Minho snickers as if he could read Thomas's mind but his hands don't stop moving and at some point his shirt is off, the feel of tattered fabric still pricking the tips of Thomas's fingers. He blushes at his brazenness--will Minho punish him for being so aggressive? The thought drives something warm into his belly and he aches, he aches so fucking hard that he almost implodes at the first breach in his hole. Just the tip of the thumb, so gentle as if Minho is being cautious not to hurt, and the thought of this nudges Thomas's eyes flutter shut, a moan slipping from his mouth.

"Please..." _  
_

"Please what?"

Thomas has already known that Minho is a jackass, but he never knew the extent to which the Keeper would go to drive him nuts. Pants pooling around his ankles, Minho violently flips Thomas around so hard he almost knocks into the wall with his forehead. Minho's thumb continues to push in and out of Thomas's hole and Thomas groans and grunts, wanting so much more.

"Please touch me," Thomas breathes, throat dry and knees buckling. "Please let me see the Maze Rimmer."

Thomas twists his head around at the sound of rustling. Minho has dropped to his knees, his face directly before Thomas's ass. Hands spread apart his cheeks and his legs almost give out at a slight breeze blown over his hole. Thomas gets no warning before something wets brushes around his rim, so light he might've missed it hadn't he already been so sensitive. Another lick--firmer and longer this time--has Thomas bent over, his ass sticking up and pushing back, whimpers falling from his mouth. Steadying himself by the forearm on the wall, Thomas lets out a shuddered moan as Minho finally drives his tongue in, leisurely swirling around while his hands continue to knead and spread open the globes of Thomas's ass. Then the licks become laps into the top of Thomas's hole just as two fingers slide in, all too easily. Thomas gasps before his voice tapers into mewls, a sound he didn't know he was capable of making until it grows louder, more persistent when Minho scissors his fingers. 

Minho crooks his fingers as his tongue digs in and in _one, two, three_ warm undercurrents of sheer euphoria permeates Thomas's core as he shoots strings of white all over the ivy on the wall, residual moans and shuddered sighs trailing from dry lips. He collapses to the ground, not giving a fuck that he looks like a wreck with pants around his ankles and shirt all bunched up to his chest. Chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, Thomas raises half-mast eyes to Minho, stood over him with his shadow enveloping Thomas. Thomas squints; it's hard to make out the expression on Minho's face with the light casting over him. But he thinks he sees a smirk before it flees as Minho drops to his heels.

"Are you satisfied now? Shank." There's a goofy grin on Minho's face that Thomas can't quite place, but he shrugs it off and smiles along. He's too exhausted to talk. He just wants to lie there for a little while and--

"C'mon, pull your pants up," Minho says as he gives a light slap on Thomas's ass. Thomas feels his cock twitch. _Fuck_. "We got some runnin' to do."

Cursing under his breath, Thomas musters up all of his strength to pull up his pants, trying his best to ignore his sensitive ass cheeks and half of a boner in the process. He wishes he had saved his question toward the end of the run, but as he watches Minho's back, Thomas thinks it was worth it.


End file.
